Death Can Touch
by Strawberrygold
Summary: "How terrible it is to love something death can touch" After losing her entire family in the accident, Susan slowly learns to live with the grief. (TW suicidal thoughts, mentions of death)


They never stopped dying.

Susan would pour tea into her soft rose-coloured teacup and as the scent of the old and familiar tea hit her nose, she would lose her breath, her steady hands would tremble, and Lucy would die. The at first boiling tea would be cold when Susan finally breathed normally again, her hair a mess after gripping it tight and her sister's name on her lips.

She would do her hair, untangle her locks, comb through the dark mane and braid it: neat and simple. As she would pull the dark strands of her hair back, she would meet her own eyes in the mirror and her little brother would die. She would keep her hair loose after that.

When the sun would rise in the morning and it's distant and bright light would wake her up, her ears would notice the silent house and Peter would die. Susan would then put a shirt over her eyes and stay in bed that day.

›‹

Susan was cleaning. "You should do something, love," her old neighbour had said and patted Susan's hand. "It will do you no good just sitting around" So Susan had taken her advice, put up her hair and started to clean the living room, for the first time in a month. The room was filled with dust and things lay scattered on the floor, things no one had picked up. But it took her mind of things and that was all Susan needed. She pointedly ignored several items, photographs, notes and letters addressed to people who didn't live there anymore. There was a newspaper lying on the floor beside the sofa, pages open, displaying an article about the war. She knew Peter had intended to bring it with him, but in the hurry of their leaving, he had forgot. So Susan left it there, despite the ache in her chest, despite knowing that Peter would never pick it up.

There was a red book lying on the floor and Susan picked it up with gentle hands. She caressed the pages and almost smiled. She missed reading, she missed the escape it held, she missed learning. Browsing through the pages, with the whispers of an old life on her skin, she found a paper. It was small, with a drawing of a lion, mighty but kind on it. She studied the drawing and could clearly see that this was her sister's. The lines were gentle and the lion's eyes seemed too real, it was as if he met Susan's eyes. She'd seen this lion before. She'd seen Lucy draw and paint it often enough as her sister had always enjoyed drawing them. She had looked at them with love in her eyes, which always had made Susan hate them. For what reason, she could no longer remember. For a moment, Susan felt better, meeting the eyes of the lion her sister loved, and for a second the quiet usually drowning the house, felt comforting. Until it dawned on her that the drawing of the lion was a bookmark that her sister had put in this book. In the book she would never finish. Just like that, Susan wanted to die.

›‹

The priest was a patient man. Sometimes she would come and say nothing, sometimes she wouldn't show up at all. But he always took time to talk to her, if it was because pity or kindness, Susan did not know. But he was one of the few who dared to look her in the eyes, nowadays and Susan appreciated that.

"In their last moments, do you truly believe it was hate they felt towards you, miss Pevensie?" he clasped his hands as he asked her, with a kind smile on his lips. When she remained silent he added "When entering God's realm, there is nothing but love in your heart. I knew them. They were religious people, they loved so much and so many. You included."

"I don't know about that, father. We weren't close, in the end. Quite the opposite, actually" she finally answered. She felt a lump in her throat and suddenly it was harder to breathe. She looked down at her hands.

"But you were their sister," the priest argued, pretending not to notice how she once again slightly flinched at his use of the past term. "They loved you, miss Pevensie. They forgive you."

"I-I do not think-"

"The lord is forgiving." he interrupted. "The lord is forgiving and he forgives you. Your siblings, by his side, forgives you too." Susan looked up with tear-filled eyes and met his. "The only person left to forgive you, Susan, is you." The world stopped and Susan became angry.

"No" she said with a raspy voice. "They shouldn't. When they died, there was no love in my heart for them. When the phone call came, I was annoyed, I almost didn't pick up because I wanted to be alone. Now, I've never wanted to be anything less." She ignored his sad smile, swallowed her tears and left the church. She didn't return for a month.

›‹

" _We're going now, Su." Edmund stuck his head into her room and grinned slightly at her. He had combed his hair for once but several buttons on his shirt were undone. She met his eyes in the mirror and smiled slightly. "Safe travels, Ed." Her smile fell as he continued to stare at her through the mirror. At once, she felt annoyed. "Is there a problem? Do I look bad?" He smiled sadly at that._

" _No, Su. You look beautiful, just not like yourself." They both heard Peter calling out for Edmund and the later brother just sighed. "Take care, Su. There's tea in the kitchen. Don't destroy the house while we're gone." She scoffed at that and he smirked. As he turned his back and started to leave she called out to him._

" _When will you be back?"_

›‹

"I'm okay. I'm alive." she whispered to her reflection. She wondered when it would stop feeling like a lie.

›‹

There is a rainbow in the sky and Susan is sitting on the grass. She feels the strands of grass on her legs and the wind caresses her face. If Lucy had been here, she would have been painting. Edmund would probably been reading and making endless comments to Lucy about everything. Peter, well, he would've been talking to her. About the sky, their life, their family. Susan thinks would have been happy. But then, as it always happened, someone would have brought up Narnia. The moment would have been over and Susan would argue with either Lucy or Peter and then abruptly stood up and left. Lucy would have cried, Peter would've been angry and Edmund would have gone quiet. It had played out like that too many times than Susan could remember.

But if they were here now, she wouldn't have left. She would have stayed and asked them who this Aslan is. She would have asked them to retell the stories of the games and she would take joy in watching their faces light up. She would have let them know how much she loved and cared for them. And she would have asked so much because she wanted to know, she needed to know. What was this childhood game they had played that several years later would bring them apart, ruin their relationship. What was this Narnia and why couldn't she remember. Why did it lead to her sitting here by herself, alone and alive while her siblings aren't either. How can she possibly pick up her life again while half of it is missing, gone, dead.

"Forgive me…forgive me...forgive me..." Susan mumbled and she breathed in and out, in and out. And as it were, the sun peaked out from the behind the clouds and warmed her skin for a while.

›‹

She had encountered a child yesterday on the street, a young girl with brown pigtails just like Lucy's and with a blinding smile too close to Peter's. The little girl had stopped Susan and had politely said hello. With an aching chest and tired body, Susan had smiled at her. "Are you alone, ma'am?" the young girl had asked and looked behind Susan as if someone had been hiding there.

"No, just me." Susan had replied and been surprised when the girl smiled at that.

"So am I! Then we can be friends, don't you think? I live there" she had said excitedly and pointed at a house just nearby. "I don't mind being alone though, but sometimes it's fun to be with someone."

"I…" Susan had hesitated but looking at the girl's sweet face she had made a decision. "I'd love to."

The little girl's face had lighted up at that, reminding Susan an awful lot of her dead sister. "Then we're friends! And…" the girl had added shyly before waving and running back to her house. "You're very pretty."

And even with grief still strong in her chest and the guilt and the memories shading the afternoon sun, Susan had laughed.


End file.
